The night you came into my life
by Lady Talla-doe
Summary: If not for that horrible night, he might have never had a chance to get to know the man under the mask; the REAL Batman.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Beware, Abuse lies ahead! Male/male relationships, graphic scenes of violence, and sexual content. This is rated M for a reason! You've been warned! Bring your toothpaste, for it ends fluffy!(ish)

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own, you don't sue! Nor do I own the lyrics to "Life Less ordinary"

And finally, a thanks to _SarahPants_, my amazing Beta reader, the great lady who lets me pit my ideas against her brain.

**The Night you came into my Life.**

'_The night you came into my life  
Well it took the bones of me, took the bones of me  
You blew away my storm and strife  
And shook the bones of me, shook the bones of me  
By the way, I do know why you stayed away...  
I will keep tongue-tied next time'_

The hard/soft sound of flesh impacting on flesh sounded hollowly through the apartment. The apparent loser of the argument hit the wall, head snapping back on impact. Blood marred Irish-pale skin, leaking from his nose to drip down over his lips.

"Fuck," Wally muttered, wiping a hand across his lips, smearing red over the side of his face. Green eyes widened in fear as his attacker approached, shadow falling over the abused hero.

"Please, I didn't mean to-!" his words were cut off by a hand, descending from above. As the sharp _crack_ echoed through the room, tears welled up, slipping down his reddening face. His hands shook as he held them out, pleadingly, to the man hovering above him, "Baby. Baby, please forgive me..." a blow silenced the broken whisper, continuing on far into the night.

_Six months later, at the Watch Tower..._

The silence in the Monitor Womb was accompanied by the gentle hum of machinery, a soft sound that offered slight comfort. So high up in space, turning quietly around the Earth, watching over it as no one else did. He wouldn't admit it, but the sense of peace calmed the Batman, soothing his ragged, over-sensitive edges for several hours, allowing him some down time from the hectic, stressful (but so exhilarating) pace of Gotham. His city was a dark beauty, majestic in her tattered gown, a rose with a cankered heart. But it was _his_ city, and he would protect it until he was too old to fly from building to building on zip lines. Or until he died. Which ever came first. But for now, his services were lent to the whole world- for these few hours, everyone had a Batman. Even if they didn't know it.

Images flickered across the bank of screens in front of him, casting his face in harsh patches of light and jagged, dark shadows. Various rooms of the tower flickered across the screens, showing members going about their business. J'onn sat with Green Lantern, playing what appeared to be a game of chess in the lounge. Hawk Woman lounged on the love seat, engrossed in a novel. A big page turner, by the looks of it. The screens flicked over again, flashing him a picture of Flash, as he materialised. Batman punched several keys, zooming in on the picture.

"is something wrong?" questioned a voice from behind him. He barely managed to keep from giving himself whiplash out of surprise. To the untrained eye, he didn't even seem surprised. But of course, the alien at his side, hand resting on the back of his chair, knew better. Lense-covered eyes snapped back to the screen, only to find the alien was missing from the monitor screens.

"J'onn," he greeted quietly.

"Batman," the alien responded in kind, eyed on the screen. "Something is wrong with Flash?" he phrased it as a question, but it really wasn't. The only person harder to hide from then the Batman was the Marshian Manhunter, telepathic resident of mars. Several keys were hit by gloved hands, minimizing the picture, and returning the screens to their normal, random searching.

"I don't know. He hasn't been himself." The marshian nodded to himself, clasping his hands behind his back.

"He is acting strangely, yes," he agreed, strange eyes studying the screen in an absent manner. Every time he saw Flash, the manhunter was bombarded by meaningless thoughts, such as what purple tasted like, or if koala's made good pets. As eccentric as the young hero was, he hadn't thought much of it at first. But as time wore on, he had caught him slipping up on the occasion; entering the watch tower with a nagging fear and exhaustion that was unlike the speedster. But he had kept his opinions to himself- for what he understood of human society, others did not like having their weaknesses and fears pointed out. The two remained silent for some time, letting time pass as they brooded their respective thoughts.

Batman broke the silence first, "He's hiding something,"

"I agree. His thoughts have been more erratically juvenile for the last few months. His actions are out of character."

"His actions are faked." the vigilante rumbled, narrowing his eyes behind his cowl. Flash had been far more subdued, but whenever he'd been confronted, he'd perk up, pulling on a wide smile, and claim he'd been 'lost in his thoughts'. Then he would escape to his quarters, with the excuse that he'd forgotten to feed his hamster.

"Flash does not have a hamster," J'onn pointed out, making the man twitch.

"Stay out of my head." He growled, irritated at letting his guard down. The alien blinked at him, before turning his attention back to the screen.

"Apologies. But he does not have a pet."

The look Batman kept giving the computer would have been enough to strip a man down to his bones. It was like he was trying by sheer will power to see inside the head of the speedster on the screen, until the man confessed his secrets and bared his soul. But Flash remained oblivious of the scrutiny, watching earth through one of the many windows. The young hero didn't look happy.

Growling, Batman stood, cloak rustling dryly against the hard floor as he moved towards the door.

"What will you do?" J'onn called after him, his quiet voice carrying easily across the vaulting room.

"What I do best," was the response, as the man swept from the room, "Detect."

_Batcave, two weeks later..._

"Alfred." One word greetings were a thing the old English butler was used to by now.

"Master Wayne. I hope today was successful?"

Bruce shook his head in disgust, tugging down the cowl of his costume, as he dropped heavily into the chair before his computer, running a hand over his eyes.

"I'm no closer then I was two weeks ago." Something was wrong with his friend, and despite his bests efforts, he couldn't figure it out. He knew the speedster's name. He knew where he lived. But this was the fastest man alive he was trying to shadow- Flash lost him without even realising he was there.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir. Something to drink?"

"Just water. Thank you."

As the old man turned to go, Bruce called out,

"Alfred?" the snowy haired manservant turned,

"Yes Master Wayne?"

For the first time in years, the Dark Knight hesitated.

"What.... what should I do, Alfred?"

Faded grey eyes studied him for a moment, with the same quiet intensity that had been there since he'd been a child. After a moment, Alfred smiled.

"The right thing, sir." With a pleasant smile, he excused himself, disappearing around the corner. Bruce Wayne stared after him for a moment, then sigh, slumping in his chair.

"...The right thing...."

_Central City, that same day...._

"Slut! You're seeing someone behind my back, aren't you?" a plate shattered on the wall beside his cowering form. He hated it when he yelled. And lately, it seemed like he was always yelling. Wally wasn't sure how it had started. It didn't really matter, anyway. Ryan was pissed, and when he got pissed, Wally got hurt.

They'd started going out almost a year ago. He'd been so sweet at first- flowers and chocolates, fancy dinners and moonlight walks. Wally's odd hours hadn't seemed to bother Ryan, and for the first time, he found himself looking at the possibility of a real, long term relationship. The idea had been so... so _wonderful_, he'd some how managed to miss the flashes of anger in Ryan's eyes when he spoke his friends. Or the times he'd hurt him by 'mistake'; a bloody bite during sex, an overly aggressive kiss. But shortly after they'd moved in together, things had begun to change. The anger came out more often, and the violence increased. The first time he beat Wally bloody, they'd been together six months.

He'd thought they'd been in love.

How could he have been so wrong?

Another plate broke, showering him with sharps of sharp porcelain. A large shard struck his cheek, scoring a thin line of red across his ghost-pale face. His freckles stood out in sharp relief, fear draining the blood away. Ryan was in full swing, swearing and spitting, kicking at him and throwing things. Cowering under his lover's rage, he couldn't think of why he'd stayed after that first night. Perhaps it was how sincere he'd sounded as he apologized? How he'd cared for him, then so tenderly made love to his battered body?

Whatever it was, he wished he hadn't. The tenderness was gone. Love had given way to possessive violence- his boyfriend had flipped out at him for anything. They no longer 'made love'; Wally was thrown on the bed, and Ryan raped him. There was no consent. Just pain if he obeyed, and more pain if he didn't. How had he ended up in this pathetic position? Why did he let this happen?

"You're nothing but a filthy whore!" Ryan hissed, moving so fast that Wally didn't have time to react. It was always like this- him, too intimidated to escape, and Ryan, all too willing to cause him pain. One hand wrapped vice-like around his wrist, wrenching him from the wall, and into the taller man's chest. He whimpered, shrinking back, only to stop as the Ryan's nails bit into his arm, carving red crescents into his flesh.

"You love me, don't you? Tell me you love me." He hissed. Wally could feel the tears building in his eyes, feel them spill down his cheeks.

"_I... I l-love y-you_," he sobbed in a broken whisper, curling up on himself as Ryan pulled him into a hug, rocking him back and forth as he whispered soothing words in a sick parody of love.

Flash was trapped in a nightmare he couldn't run away from. And he desperately wanted out.

_JLA Watch Tower, the next day...._

Batman hid in the shadows of the room, watching the teleport pads for any sign of use. When the faint shimmer started, he moved out- if the arrival proved no to be Flash, he sunk back into the shadows, watching until they left, and settled to repeat the sequence over again.

When Wally's assigned time came, and past, Batman started to worry. As an hour crept by, he could feel the tension building in his chest, twisting painfully around his heart. Something was wrong. Wally was never late. Agitation grew as another hour crept by- then, something snapped inside him.

_Wally's in danger._ He cursed himself for waiting so long- what if the speedster was already dead? Or dying when he got to him? With a snarled oath, he whirled around, sprinting down the halls with little regard to the heroes around him. Angry cries and confused questions followed him throughout the watch tower, with anyone who got in his way shoved roughly from it. His destination was the Monitor Womb, where J'onn was currently on duty. The martian would be able to find the Flash, given time.

_Time he might not have,_ a voice whispered in his head- he shoved it away, snarling under his breath. They had time. They would find him. He was not going to let anything happen to the Flash.

He blew into the monitor womb, heading directly for J'onn as he spoke over the alien's confused questions, "Find Flash. He's late," he snapped, by explanation to the question the Manhunter's mouth hadn't even had time to form, "He's never late. Something's wrong." The martian blinked slowly, stunned into silence, but hurried to comply at the look on the Batman's face.

As the faint clicking of keys sounded from J'onn's direction, the Dark Knight moved to the window, gazing down at earth below them, eyes hidden behind the lenses of his mask. But his jaw was locked, fists clenched under his cloak, the muscles in his arms standing out in sharp relief. _Don't let us be too late..._ Enough people had died that he cared about. He wasn't going to add the speedster to the list. If he had to claw his way all the way to the Speed Force, he'd do it. He'd bring the Flash back from the empty, complete death, drag him from Death's skeletal hands if he had to. Reaching out, his gloved hands rested on the bar, tightening around the metal until it, or the plates in his gloves groaned in protest.

_Give us a little more time..._

_That very moment, Central City..._

Wally sobbed softly, curling up tighter on himself. Everything hurt, despite his accelerated healing. Bruises from hours ago were still a livid black, angry and painful against his pale skin. Cuts still bled, red pulsing sluggishly through crusted patches of broken skin. Ryan had never beat him this badly before. If he had not been who he was, he'd be dead- in fact, he was beginning to think that was what his violent lover had been intending. He'd made it clear from day one what he thought of secrets- they weren't tolerated. But how could he have told him something so- so life shattering, as that the man he was dating was a hero? The one idolised by his city? Wally hadn't thought it was something his boyfriend had needed to know- or would want to know. He hadn't wanted to scare him off.

But now- now he wished he told him. If only so that he wasn't in so much pain. Another choked sob worked its way from his damaged throat. It came out horse and scratchy, his voice nearly gone from the combination of screaming, crying, and begging he'd done in the last twelve hours. Laying in the street, in a cold puddle of water and his own blood, he could vividly recall how it had all started.

Ryan had found one of his costumes. He'd been furious, screaming at Wally as soon as he came through the door- he'd thrown the scarlet costume in his face, gesturing at it in wordless fury. For a moment, Wally had been frozen, terrified that he'd been found out. Then Ryan had gotten up in his face, breath hissing across Wally's clammy skin,

" _So, you love _him_ better, do you? You little slut! I should have known you wouldn't be faithful!"_ in that brief moment, he'd felt a sense of relief so profound, his knees had nearly buckled. It must have shown on his face, because it only enraged Ryan further. Now, looking back, he realised that he hadn't bothered to deny it. That was probably why he'd hurt him so much- from Ryan's point of view, he'd all but admitted to his accused infidelity. If only by not denying it.

He couldn't have known it was impossibly for Wally to be unfaithful with the Flash- after all, they were one and the same. But, Ryan hadn't know. Even as a lethal combination of pain and cold slowly dulled his mind, Wally West was glad, in a distorted fashion, that he hadn't denied it. He'd given him a way out. A way from under Ryan's thumb, a path from his abuse. All he had to do was survive a few days more, and he'd be good as new.

Yet even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. There would be no 'good as new' for him, no happy ending. _I'm going to die. In a puddle. In an alley of my own city._ If he hadn't been so exhausted, mentally and physically, he might have laughed. It was just too much.

The Flash was going to die alone, in the middle of the day, in a puddle behind a Chinese restaurant he'd ate at every week as long as he could remember. And no one was going to know it was him- save the other founding members of the JLA, if they found him. He might be just another John Doe, some poor sob who'd bled away his last few minutes, completely forgotten. Unmourned by all.

Tears rose up, and threatened to kill him with the lump that developed in his throat. How could this happen? To him, no less? The salt of his own tears burned his skin, as they slide fast and hot down his face.

_I'm going to die..._

Funny. Dying didn't feel like it had last time- it felt oddly warm, the cold of the bloody water and pavement dropping away, replaced by a burning warmth. He could almost swear a hand was touching his face, a voice rumbling something at the edge of his under standing. Was that his name...?

"_-ally! Wally-"_ he almost recognised it. But the familiarity of it slipped through his fingers, like water in his hands, dripping away with each heart beat. After what felt like an eternity, he gave up. Darkness rose to swallow him, but as he blacked out, he could help the feeling of safety. After all, if an angel was willing to hold him as he died, surely it wasn't as bad as they thought it was?

_Two days later, Wayne Manner...._

For the second day in a row, Bruce watched over the sleeping Flash, eyes narrowed at every painful noise, every fretful twitch. He still had no idea what had happened to him- after finding him behind the _Golden Great Wall_, bloody and beaten, the speedster had fallen unconscious in his arms. The ride from Central to Gotham had been the longest one of his life. Sure, the watch tower had better equipment, but Wally's attack seemed to be personal in nature; he'd been attacked in his civilian clothes, and dumped like garbage behind his favourite restaurant. There were tiny round bruises at the back of his neck, as it a chain had been ripped from around his throat- yet, who ever had stolen it had left his wallet and other valuables on him. A random mugger would have stripped him of everything that could be sold, not left it on him. What ever had been taken had been personal.

Blue eyes studied the sleeping speedster. All visible wounds had healed hours ago, bruises gone shortly after he'd gotten him to the Batcave, but Bruce had had the chance to look over the wounds, as he searched him for anything potentially fatal. Wally had been relatively lucky, strictly speaking; four broken ribs, but none had punctured his lungs; a fractured arm, broken collarbone, and hairline fractures on his shins, as if someone had kicked him while he'd been laying down. There was no doubt that who ever had beaten him had done so with the intent of killing him- why they hadn't stayed to make sure he was dead was not unexpected. Who ever had injured the hero obviously thought of him as worthless. Why else leave him with the trash?

The billionaire shifted, narrowing his eyes at the sleeping man. He knew Wally had enemies- didn't they all? But who of them knew his civilian identity? No matter how the Batman looked at it, it simply didn't fit the Flash's super villains. They were locked up, or not currently in Central City, and no sightings had been made within the last three days. Given the evidence, the World's Greatest detective had come to the conclusion that it wasn't someone from Flash's super hero life, but his Civilian one.

Some one had tried to kill Wally West, ignorant of the knowledge that he was Flash. So it left the question: Who?

***

Wally groaned softly, turning his face into the pillow as he sought sleep. But it refused to return, abandoning him completely as pain slowly filtered through his dulled senses. Faintly, he remembered what had happened. Ryan had beat him, worse then ever before. But he felt so warm- and he was in pain, so obviously, he wasn't dead. Did that mean they'd made up?

He snorted softly, nuzzling his pillow. _Well, obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn't be in such a nice bed, with such nice sheets...._His lips curled into a goofy smile, as he let a hand wander under the covers, almost purring at the silky smoothness. He didn't remember buying such nice sheets. Ryan must have, then, as a surprise. A frown creased his brow- something at the back of his mind was nagging at him, wailing that he pay attention. Ryan had hurt him. Badly. His brain slowly hummed to life, all pistons firing. It kept coming back to Ryan hurting him- flashes of pictures, snatches of words. The name calling. The pain. The suit.

All the colour drained from his face, as he sat up slowly, green eyes wide and unseeing.

Ryan had found his Flash suit. Did he know?

The events of the night before came back to him slowly, like molasses, reluctant to leave the safety of his hind brain. As it came back, relief swept through him. Ryan might have tried to kill him, but he hadn't discovered his secret. He'd thought he was cheating on him- the thought crushed Wally's heart- but he hadn't figured it out.

With the relief, his muscles stopped vibrating, stilling as the fear drained away. Curiosity replaced it, as he looked around the spacious, luxurious room. French doors and a large bay window took up most of the west wall, looking out over manicured lawns and perfect gardens. Wally frowned, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed as he leaned forward, squinting out the window. This looked like...

"Ah, master Wallace. You're awake."

In hindsight, his terrified-lady-wombat scream might not have been the best of first impressions. Alfred smiled at him from the doorway, looking only faintly amused at his reaction.

"Master Bruce said you would want to eat, should you wake up today." The specific phrasing caught the startled red-headed speedster's attention. Alfred could see him rewind the conversation, face pinching at the implications.

" 'wake up _today_'? like, _after-sleeping-through-yesterday_, today, or _two-year-coma_ today?" the older man gave the distinct impression that he was trying very, _very_ hard not to smile, and placed a laden tray on the foot of the bed.

"_Breakfast,_ Master Wallace. I am sure questions can wait until after." Wally took one took at the tray, and decided explanations could wait for a little while.

***

Bruce was busy chipping away at the problem West had brought with him; namely, the identification of his abuser. Knowing the Flash as he did (which wasn't nearly as well a great portion of the League, he was frustrated to admit), the kid (_man_. Why was it so hard to remember that?) he'd never tell if approached directly. But he wasn't about to let him go prancing back home to who ever, or what ever had beat him so badly. He frowned, punching in another set of commands, then settled back to watch the results.

Central City wasn't like Gotham. It wasn't dark, foreboding, or nearly as dangerous as Gotham- and unlike his city, its heroes weren't on its city's police force 'most wanted' list. Not that the Gotham PD did anything to try and apprehend the Batman....

Bruce suppressed a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to gather his wandering thoughts. It was all so distracting, what with Wally upstairs, and the problems the young man presented taunting him as they were. He _liked_ Wally. Sure, at times he was easily distracted, bordering on A.D.D., but his heart was in the right place, and he genuinely tried to help people. Even his Rogues. The speedster was simply too friendly to have earned such a dangerous enemy- and to his civilian identity, no less! The fact he had worried Bruce- both the man, and the bat sides of her personality. His two lives were connected to the Flash, and neither wanted to see him hurt. That they had, and could do nothing more then patch him back up angered him.

_This wasn't how I wanted to spend the holidays..._ with one last heavy sigh, he scrubbed his hands over his face, setting the computer to hibernate as he stood. A little coffee would do him no harm...

The giant screen went dark as he exited the Batcave, climbing the winding stairs back up to the mansion.

***

Wally had inhaled his breakfast at an alarming rate- for Alfred, anyway. Although, it had been a nice change to have someone actually _eat _everything on their plate rather then simply push it around with their fork until some alarm summoned them away, thus saving them from the heralds of broccoli. As he watched the speedster down his seventh helping, he was reasonably sure the young man remembered to chew at _least_ every second mouthful.

_Five weeks later, Wayne Manner...._

A redheaded, human blur whirled past Alfred to press its speedster nose against the frost edged glass of the large bay window. The butler smiled, "Perhaps Master Wallace would enjoy some time outside today, Master Bruce?" a half turn, so that the old man could cast a wry smile at the surviving Wayne.

For the most part, Bruce had kept to himself for the past several weeks. He'd –barely- kept from grilling the speedster, trying a more Superman approach of 'letting him tell me in his own time'. It was proving to be more difficult then he'd first anticipated; instead of Wally cracking under the dark, brooding glares Bruce kept trailing him with, the young man had bottled it up with smiles and jokes. Unlike Batman, Bruce Wayne wasn't intimidating enough to make the speedster confess. And it irritated the hell out of him. He turned blue eyes towards the excited West, before sighing, marking his page before closing his book.

"I suppose."

Those two simple words landed him with a sudden armful of happy Flash.

"_-"_ a large hand clapped over his mouth, effectively stopping the spill of excited words. He could feel the redhead grin against his palm, a soft rasp of chapped lips that sent a shiver down his spine. Unwittingly, an answering smile- small in comparison to Wally's- spread across his own lips.

"You're welcome, Wally. I'm sure Alfred can find some snow things for you."

***

In hindsight, a snowball fight with the fastest man alive wasn't the best of ideas. Bruce brushed the remains of the latest attack out of his hair, smiling at the grinning redhead.

"Come on, Bats! That the best you've got?" Wally teased, hands packing the latest of his icy missiles as he spoke. The only thing Bruce had in his favour was that the speedster couldn't use his speed to make snowballs- too fast, and they melted from the heat created by air friction. So Wally had to stick to strictly human speed when making his 'icy balls of doom', as he'd taken to calling them. That had been after Bruce had insisted that he could not just fling loose hand full's of snow at him. But that didn't mean he couldn't fling _snowballs_ at him at inhuman speeds.

He chucked another snow ball, anticipating Wally blurring out of the way at the last moment- prepared, he hurled two more while the speedster was gloating, catching him square in the face. The redhead yelped as snow splattered across his face, spinning around as he scrubbed it from his eyes.

"No fair!" he vented, spitting out a mouthful of snow, and glaring at Bruce with one annoyed green eye. Bruce simply shrugged, offering his teammate a cheerful smile, "Well, if you're going to gloat, you really should move around a bit." The redhead gasped in mock outrage, clutching at his chest as if wounded by his words.

"That's it, Bats! You're goin' _down_!" snow whipped through the air, as Wally chased Bruce, two handfuls of snow held high in the air. For once, he stuck to the same speed as his friend, content to continue to game.

Alfred tweaked the curtain back into place, a smile hovering on his lips. Yes, it was _exactly_ like having a child back in the manner- or, right now, _two_ children.

"Perhaps the young master has finally found a match," he mused, to no one in particular, as he closed the door quietly behind him. If he hurried, he could have some cookies ready for the two by the time the came back inside.

***

Wally stumbled inside, laughing breathlessly. Bruce followed, giving the younger man a good natured shove to get him through the doorway, and into the mud room. Both men were soaked, snow sliding off their coats, and out of their hair as they moved. Wally's stuck up at odd angles, darker then normal due to the wet flakes still stuck in it. He dropped onto one of the wooden benches, leaning forward with a grin.

"Admit it- I whooped your ass out there!"

Bruce arched a brow, pausing in the middle of towelling his hair to give him an amused look,

"This coming from the man who looks like he took a _swim_, rather then a snow ball fight."

Wally grinned wickedly, "Not my fault I'm hot. You don't look much better, you know."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." At Wally's confused look, he smirked, then added, "But if you insist on calling more attractive then yourself, I will have to accept the compliment."

He kicked off his boots, leaving the spluttering redhead behind.

True to his name, Wally caught up quickly, covering his embarrassment with a cocky attitude.

"Smooth, turning my compliment against me. But it totally doesn't count, you know. 'Cus I didn't say it."

"Say what?"

"That your more attractive the me- Damn!"

Bruce laughed, clapping the fuming speedster companionably on the shoulder, "maybe next time."

Wally blushed vibrantly, muttering to himself as he turned his head away quickly. But Bruce caught sight of his smile, although he reframed form commenting. The two men walked together in silence the rest of the way to the kitchen, following their collective noses to the waiting plate of Alfred's cookies.

***

"Wally, do you remember what day it is?" Bruce asked later, as the two sat in library. Wally looked up from his game in confusion, "Wednesday?" he hazarded after a moment, looking more confused by the second as Bruce's look of amusement increased.

"What?" he demanded, putting the game down, "_What?_" his look of confusion morphed into annoyance as the other man laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Twenty fourth."

At Wally's continued look of puzzlement, he lifted a brow, adding with rich amusement, "_December."_

A moment of silence. Then,

"It's _Christmas?!_"

Bruce laughed- Wally continued his little freak out, fisting his hands in his hair, "It's Christmas, and you didn't _tell me?!? I haven'tgottenanything!presentschocolate-ANYTHING!_" his words blurred together as he looked about in panic- as if something might magically appear.

"Wally."

"_Howcouldyoudothistome?!Christmasandyoudidn'ttellmeand-"_

"_Wally!_"

The man froze, looking over at Bruce. Green eyes impossibly wide, he stared stupidly for a moment, before his face went scarlet, and he spluttered, embarrassed. "W-what?"

Bruce smirked, "Merry Christmas, Wally."

The man frozen, then tucked his arms in tight, hunching his shoulders like a pouting child. Bruce's wicked grin tweaked wider- he could see the man's ears flushing an even darker red, as he mumbled under his breath. It was a flustered, but heart felt 'merry Christmas.' In light of the season, he chose to forgive the dark '_jerkface_' at the end of it. Having embarrassed the young man enough for one evening, he withdrew with a quiet good night, leaving Wally to his thoughts.

***

Wally hugged himself, sitting with his feet tucked up on the no-doubt expensive couch. Face still flushed from the latest teasing delivered at the hands of the Dark Knight, his head was swimming. Things had changed so much over the last few weeks; before moving into the Wayne manner, he never would have thought Batman could smile, let alone _laugh- _but now, he couldn't imagine why he'd thought that. And then there was the _teasing-!_ He felt warmth creep back into his cheeks, tucking his knees up tighter so he could lean his cheek against one knee, eyes overly bright, and swallowed his tears. Half heartedly, he wondered why he was so miserable- wasn't this his dream? Living with _The_ Batman. Life couldn't get any better then this, could it? But the sob caught in his throat said it could. Did Bruce even realise what he did to him? What he'd _always_ done to him? He flustered him and intimidated him- dark and brooding, the Batman had been untouchable, an idol to be looked upon from afar. Living with him had changed all that; Bruce was far more approachable then the Batman, _warmer_-Great Cosmic Muffin, his _laugh-!_

He'd fallen in love with him without even realising it. When he'd finally realised it, it had been way too late- and now he was going to spend the rest of his life pining after the man under the mask.

_The wonderful, friendly, incredibly handsome man behind the mask._

Now that he knew him- and meant _really_ knew him- he couldn't help but feel incredibly young. Bruce had been so kind- despite the fact he knew he was dying to grill him about how he'd ended up nearly dead, he never asked. He was waiting, Wally realised, for Wally to tell him. No one had ever shown that much patience with him before- every one just treated him like a child, demanding he do things their way, and grow up. But Bruce hadn't – sure, on missions, he'd lost his patience once or twice, but Wally was big enough to admit that he'd had those ones coming.

When it counted, Bruce treated him like an adult. But did he see him as an adult? Or was he just indulging him?

He groaned softly, burying his heated face in his knees. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

Bruce was his friend. Wasn't it written somewhere that you weren't supposed to love friends like that?

He scoffed softly, curling up on his side. _Merry Christmas indeed._

If there was one thing he'd learned about love, it was that is wasn't suppose to hurt so much.

***

Bruce slipped down the fall, frowning to himself. He'd made Wally miserable, and hadn't the faintest clue what he'd done wrong. Surely it wasn't the teasing-?

_Damn._

Sighing, he scrubbed at his eyes, sudden exhausted. He'd think on it tonight, and if he couldn't come up with something, then he'd ask Alfred in the morning. The old man always knew more then he let on, after all....

***

Alfred sighed to himself, shaking his head over the state of young Wallace. Really, the two of them were completely hopeless. Smiling to himself, the old butler gently lifted the sleeping Wally's head, sliding a pillow underneath it, before covering the speedster with a blanket, tucking it in carefully. It had been a long time since he'd played matchmaker, but he figured he was up to the challenge....

Sighing to himself, the snowy haired manservant straightened, looking down at the redhead's sleeping form, lined face softening into a look of tired affection. He was so energetic, so full of energy. It was really the greatest joy to have Wally in the manner, bringing the tired stone to life with one of his sunny smiles. It wasn't Wally's fault Bruce was denser then two short planks when it came to the younger man's feelings. He just needed a helping hand, perhaps a good strong shove in the right directions. Smart as he was, it shouldn't take Bruce too long to put things together... A smile twitched the old man's lips, _and if it does, then I do believe I can set some, ah, 'hints' for him._ Lead a horse to water, as it were. He had no doubt, in his old, sly mind, that given the right prompts, the young master would drink.

_Five days later..._

At the first bolt of lightning, Wally shot out of bed, fully upright before his brain had even realised what had startled it. Green eyes blinked away the dust of sleep, watching the storm for a few quiet moments as it broke over the hunched shadow of Gotham. Vaguely, he recalled there being a storm warning in effect, issued the night before. Combing a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, Wally glanced around, noting the fire had gone out some time ago. A cold breeze whistled down the chimney, raising gooseflesh on his arms. Shivering once, he snagged the abandoned blanket from the bed, wrapping it around himself before he ventured into the hallway. Like most of the mansion, it was dark and empty, stone floor cold against his bare feet. _Bats is probably still out._ It seemed about right. But suddenly craving company, Wally decided to check his rooms- just in case. If he wasn't there, he could always wait. Destination in mind, he set his feet upon their path, moving at a sedate walk- for once, moving slow didn't feel awkward. He was sleepy, relatively warm, and had absolutely no reason to be rushing. For once, he'd be normal without having normality forced upon him. The faint _'pat pat'_ of bare feet against polished marble mixed with the rain, fading slowly into the distance.

As he walked, his thoughts turned back to man behind the mask. Bruce had become strangely indulgent of him, lately. Weirder yet, Alfred seemed to have taken to hovering around the billionaire, and every once and awhile Bruce would start to say something, only to be cut off by some cryptic comment. The first couple times it had happened had startled even Wally into silence. But Alfred had simply smiled, nodding at his master's look of confusion, and made some light comment about the weather, then tottered off.

It was the tottering that had made Wally suspicious. Men who routinely chased down, and patched up the Batman did not _totter._ But what was he gunna do? Frankly, Alfred didn't seem the type for hurtful plans, so whatever he was planning, it wasn't with malicious intent. With that in mind, Wally filed the whole thing away under _'Weird, harmless stuff'_, and continued his little walk.

Bruce's room was in another wing from his own, on the far side of the house; Wally was up every morning with the sun, seeing as it rose on his side. It was only logical that a man who haunted Gotham's streets by night would want the one set of rooms in the house that didn't get sunlight until well after noon. But it was a long way to walk in the dark, gloomy mansion, what with the thunder echoing through the empty halls, lightning painting everything in harsh black and white every few seconds. Not that it frightened him- lightning had always proved to be fascinating for him. Bright, loud, fast- what wasn't there to love? And no two bolts were alike. Normally, he'd be sitting with his nose pressed to a window, or out there in the rain, laughing up at the glowing sky.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he wanted the company of a man whose smile made his breath catch in his chest; whose laugh squeezed his heart every time he heard it. A man who was completely oblivious to the sheer amount of _love_ Wally held for him. Regardless of how painful it was to be around Bruce, that was who he wanted. Because he was the one person who had shoved aside all the bullshit, and told him how it was. That night flashed through his mind,

"_Listen to me, Wally. I don't know what happened to you, why, or who, but these things don't matter. You are _safe_ here. For as long as you need it, this is your home." Batman had fixed him with a stare, before one dark glove had reached up, and tugged the cowl back. Wally hadn't quiet been able to smoother his gasp of surprise, but the Batman had continued, "This is your home. There is no room barred to you. You know my name. Now you know the rest of it. We are here for you, Wally." He'd stood from the speedster's bedside then, looking down at him with a grave expression on his previously unreadable face, "Always." Then in Dark Knight style, he'd swept from the room, dissolving into the shadows beyond the door. For obvious reasons, Wally had stayed._

Even thinking back on it gave him shivers. Had Bruce realised how _intense_ he'd looked? How his blue eyes had seemed to be looking into Wally's very soul? Probably not. He stifled a sigh, raking a hand through his hair in a helpless gesture of frustration. The Batman had managed something no one had ever done before, without using force: He'd stopped Wally in his tracks. Captivated his soul.

He huffed a sigh, groaning at how – _how twelve-year-old-girl I sound_, he thought, amused despite himself. Here he was, wandering the halls of Wayne Manner in his P.J.'s, and fawning over Bruce Wayne like a pre-pubescent girl. Well, he'd officially hit the last rung on the ladder of self respect with that thought. With a snort, he stopped at Bruce's door, knocking softly, just in case. After a handful of seconds, he opened the door, slipping inside. Like he'd suspected, Batman was still out. Dropping his blanket by the door, Wally made his way to the king sized, four poster bed, dropping onto it without a second thought. Almost immediately, he sank into the down comfiture, the dark fabric conforming to the curve of his body. Bruce's scent floated all around him, and he breathed it in, inhaling deeply as if trying to catch a tiny piece of the man, so he could carry him with him always. With the scent came peace, and like a performer waiting in the wings, sleep saw its cue and rushed out, bundling Wally off into sweet dreams.

***

Frustrated, and soaked to the bone, Bruce tugged his cowl off his head, dropping it on a work bench as he set about removing the rest of his battered, wet costume. Well timed as always, Alfred appeared at his elbow, several thick white towels in his arms. Piled on top, loose sleepwear. With a grateful sigh, he accepted both the towels and clothing, quietly dismissing further offers of assistance.

A half hour later, he trudged up the last of the steps from the Batcave, slipping quietly into the bare hall. Thunder still rocked the sky from time to time, but it was farther off, fading more into the distance with every strike. Unconsciously, he matched his steps to the distant sounds, moving silently through quiet halls, longing for his bed with every tired bone in his body.

What he found in it gave him a moment of pause, before Bruce scoffed softly, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he shook his head. There, curled up on top of the covers, was Wally, out like a light. As he watched, the redhead moved, shifting in his sleep- curling up tighter with a mumble he couldn't quiet make out. He shut the door carefully, not wanting to wake the man up. _Of all the times for him to pull this stunt...._ but the thought lacked venom. Truthfully, he didn't mind, and if the redhead was here, at least he didn't have to worry about him.

But still! He could have at least gone to sleep _under_ the blankets. A shiver from the sleeping form proved his point.

Still shaking his head at it all, Bruce tugged the towel from his shoulders, crossing the large room to the bed. _My side, too,_ he mused, as he carefully scooped the redhead up, cradling him against his chest with one arm while he turned the covers down with his free hand. Wally curled into his warmth, mumbling non-words under his breath as he tucked his face into the crook of Bruce's neck. Bruce froze for a second, a half-formed fear of the speedster waking up right then, and the awkward, misleading explanation that would have to follow- but then the younger man sighed softly, twitching his nose into a slightly more comfortably spot before relaxing back into deeper sleep, muscles going slack. He caught the relieved rush of air behind his teeth, gritting them as he finished pulling the blankets down. Moving carefully, he placed the sleeping Wally down- on the _opposite_ side of the bed. If he was sharing, then he was having his side, dammit. The redhead showed no indication he'd noticed he'd been moved, settling down with a soft noise. A ghost of a smile crossed his face, tired eyes softening just a touch. Oblivious, Wally slept on; surrounded by a scent he associated with comfort.

The moment passed, dying a soft, natural death as exhaustion swept over him, bearing down on his limbs. Conceding, Bruce slipped into bed, pulling the covers up as he scooted across the mattress, slipping an arm around the redhead's shoulders, moving him closer until Wally slept within the cradle of Bruce's embrace, hair fanning out over his arm, while the speedster's hands curled gently in the fabric of Bruce's shirt. On impulse, he pressed a soft kiss to that soft red hair, before letting sleep pull him under.

The two slept, as the storm slowly faded away, skies clearing until the moon shown, full and bright.

**Okay, here's how it is: This has been labelled 'in the works' for near six months. So (because, frankly, it was long anyway) I've cut it in half, and will post the second, sexy half as soon as it's done. Reviews are like dog treats- they encourage me. SO.**

**You like?**

**You review.**

**Resulting in a quickly posted chapter two.**

**.......Aaaaand I'm offfffffffff~! *poofs away***


	2. Chapter 2

**D: This is what happens when I write for several hours straight while listening to soft music and have all my lanterns going. Romanic mush! I'm sorry in advance for the sap-factor of this part. Please forgive me! **

**Warnings: Love scene. And I stress the LOVE part. Bring the sexy toothpaste, you'll need it afterward.**

**~Tally.**

Part two. 

"Crap."

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Well, and truly, he'd meant to talk to Bruce. But exhaustion had gotten the better of him, and he'd fallen asleep. Which brought up the question- why was he on the other side of the bed? Wally pursed his lips, frowning, then waved the thought off, sitting up slowly. Paper crinkled under his palm, and he looked down in surprise. Picking up the note, Wally read it carefully before grinning at the door. In neat, precise writing, it read:

_You came here to heal, not catch your death from cold. Get _under_ the blankets next time._

_Breakfast is in the kitchen._

_-B_

Wally grinned at the note, rushing from bed in a flash of happy, excited movements. He slowed before he reached the kitchen, padding in at a lazy pace. Breakfast was, indeed, waiting, by way of Alfred- who smiled over his shoulder at him, offering a polite, "Master Wallace," in greeting, before turning back to his eggs. Wally dropped into one of the two remaining chairs at the small kitchen table, grinning at Bruce when he arched a brow at him over his paper. The Dark Knight didn't say anything, but Wally caught the slight quirk of his lips that he tried to hide. His grin widened.

Breakfast past in a haze of happy belonging, and gentle teasing between the heroes. If either man noticed Alfred's pleased, knowing look, neither mentioned it.

***

The warm feelings that little smile caused stayed with him for the rest of the day, a small, happy feeling centered in his chest. But as the day slowly drew to a close, an old restlessness set in. He tried to hide it, flashing overly bright smiles whenever Alfred or Bruce addressed him, but he could sense they weren't fooled. Despite that, no one called him on the act. As the sun set, Bruce was called away- to a party, it turned out. Belatedly, Wally realised it was New Years Eve. _Oh. _ That would explain it. In order to keep the playboy persona alive, Bruce Wayne would have to been seen _somewhere_ tonight. The feelings that thought brought with them were more disturbing to him then the fact he'd lost track of time. _Again_. Depression welled up, weighing him down until he had to excuse himself, seeking out someplace quiet, to be alone with his thoughts.

***

Wally curled up just inside Bruce's door, pulling his knees up as he wrapped his arms around them, chin nestled against his flesh. Green eyes stared out, overly bright, as the stars slowly came out. The tears he'd fought off for so long trickled down his face in hot, thick streams, soaking into the knees of his jeans. Despite the tears, he made no noise, just hugged himself and shivered, letting all the pent up pain, all the grief, out in a torrent of tears. His lashes clumped together, and the dried salt made his cheeks itch, his eyes feel overly tight, but Wally didn't move. If he were to move even a muscle, he feared he'd just... stop. Stop, and never start again.

_I love him._

The thought rang true.

_Why does it hurt so much?_

Wally knew Bruce hated those parties. That he didn't like the people much either. He knew it was necessary, to keep the mask hiding Batman safe, (because anyone with half a brain knew that it was really the playboy that was the mask, and Batman was Bruce's true face. Well, anyone who knew who he really was, anyway.)

But it still hurt to think he was out _there_, with _them_, instead of in here with him. It was a petty thought, and he could admit that- but _still-!_ Why couldn't he see it? See what had been in front of him for the last two months? His hands curled into loose fists, picking at the inseam with shaking fingers. He'd never felt like this Ryan. But that hadn't really been love, had it? He'd trapped him the moment Wally had truly given him his trust. He'd trapped him, and beaten him like a dog, he'd abused every little bit of Wally. And the moment he'd gathered the courage to try and get out, Ryan had tried to kill him. Anger threaded through his veins, his face scrunching into a look of defiance as he glared at the wall. So caught up in his anger, he failed to notice as the door opened quietly, admitting one silent figure before it closed.

Bruce paused. He'd know Wally was hiding _somewhere_ in the mansion, but he hadn't expected to find him curled in the corner of _his_ room. What was with him lately, and his attraction to Bruce's rooms?

Stepping carefully, he timed his footfalls with the speedster's fast, distressed breathing. Alfred had warned him Wally had been upset, of course, but this looked more than upset. To Bruce's eyes, it looked like someone had torn the speedster apart, leaving the ragged, hurt little bits to crawl off and die. Yet Wally never made a sound. Sobs wracked his slender frame, but never once did anything other than deep, ragged breaths leave his lips.

After several minutes of watching in silence, he picked his way across the room, stopping just behind Wally. Only then did the man even notice he was there.

With a startled jump, Wally spun awkwardly around, muscles protesting loudly at the treatment after so long in one position.

"Bruce-" he started, cutting himself off quickly, surprise and guilt flashing through his eyes. What was he doing here? Wally hadn't thought he'd be home until after the ball dropped, at least. But a quick glance at the clock showed there was still an hour till midnight. He felt his face flush under the scrutiny of those blue eyes, locking his eyes on the floor to avoid the intensity of them. What was Bruce thinking? He had his Batman face on- completely unreadable. Standing over him like that, it was a long way up to that stoic face. Just as his embarrassment was about to give way to true discomfort, that unreadable face softened, emotion flowing back into Bruce's blue eyes.

"Wally," he greeted softly. His eyes flickered down the speedster's crouched form, flashing back to his face. "Why were you crying?"

Wally flinched back at the question. Go figure, Batman heading straight in for the throat right off the bat. _Bat. _He'd made a funny. He ducked his head, turning his face away as a flush crept up his neck, painting his cheeks a dark red.

"That's not a question you're 'suppose to ask a guy, ya know?" he joked lightly, voice cracking slightly to the end. He swallowed, fighting back a wave of embarrassment. Of all the things he didn't want to talk about, this topped the list. But Bruce apparently didn't want to let it go.

He kneeled slowly, dropping onto one knee in front of the redhead. Wally stubbornly didn't look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor by his foot as if it were the most _fascinating _piece of wood he'd ever seen.

"Wally."

If anything, he managed to shrink more into himself, tensing up in that stubborn, impossibly way of his. Bruce's eyes narrowed.

"_Wally._"

Strong fingers caught the redhead's jaw, turning it gently, but insistently up. It was obvious the young hero didn't appreciate the action as his green eyes all but threw sparks, glaring up at Bruce as if daring him to say something about the tear tracks on his face. Which was somewhat redundant, considering he already had. Bruce ignored the look, frowning slightly down at him.

"Wally, why were you crying?"

Wally bared his teeth in angry frustration, tugging his jaw free from Bruce's hand as he scrubbed at one cheek with a hand.

"You sound like a broken record, you know that, right?" when Bruce refused to rise to the bait, he sighed, turning his face away, trying to shut the man out.

"I don't want to talk about it, Bats."

He felt, rather than saw, Bruce move closer, until he could feel the heat coming off the man's body as he sat beside him. Surprised, Wally glanced over, proving to be the wrong move. Bruce met his eyes,

"He hurt you."

Flash froze, staring at him in wide eyed surprise,

"How did you-?"

"Two months of research. I was worried." The short, clipped sentence surprised him more than his knowledge had. Turning sharply, Wally put his back to the Batman, closing up on himself as he ground out and angry, "I can take care of myself!"

"I know."

Silence.

Green eyes stared down at the floor, shock written across their expressive depths. _What-?_

Before he could speak, Bruce continued, "You're just as capable as any of us. I know that we treat you like a child at times, but I _know_ you can take care of yourself. We all do. It doesn't stop us from worrying." A speech, by his standards. Slowly, the speedster loosened up, turning back to him, now confused,

"Then why did you-?"

"You didn't show up for shift. You always come."

He blinked. Batman had just complimented him- indirectly of course. But in bat-speech, those three simple words meant _'You are reliable.' _Which was really the highest compliment anyone could give him.

He shook himself from his thoughts; Bruce was still speaking.

"When I found you, you were almost dead. Not _The Flash_, but Wallace West. I had a right to be concerned. He'd nearly killed you."

~*~

_He almost took you away. From us. From me._

Bruce suppressed the thought, and the echo of panic the memory brought. Wally, bleeding out in his arms, weak and limp; Wally hooked up to multiple machines, barely hanging on. To think that smile, that bright personality might not survive... it had almost been too much for him. Grief and anger warred inside the Dark Knight, with nowhere to go. It had been a savage, merciless two nights for the villains of Gotham.

Then Wally had woken up, and it had felt like the sun had finally returned. The strength of the emotions the young hero brought out in him had stunned him into silence.

To keep from frightening him off, from scaring him from the sanctuary he knew the speedster needed, he'd suppressed his feelings, hidden them away.

Wally was looking at him, face so incredibly open. Did he realise that his every thought, his every emotion, showed on that face? It was what made him such a terrible liar. What _always_ gave him away whenever he rigged one prank or another.

Right then, it displayed all the shock, all the surprise and all the dawning hope that was going through the man's mind. Wally was as easy to read as a book with extra large font. Distantly, Bruce realised he'd been moving closer as he'd been speaking. But for once, the unconscious choices his mind made followed the ones his conscious one had made.

One hand caught the side of Wally's face, cradling it carefully as Bruce tipped it up. Wally's eyes widened a fraction as he realised what was happening, warm breath washing over his face before warm lips were pressed softly against his own.

~*~

He didn't know where it had come from, or what had prompted it; Bruce had never showed any indication that he was aware of Wally's feelings, but no matter _why_, he knew one thing for certain.

Bruce was kissing him.

It was chaste, and light, lingering for a handful of heartbeats, before he moved away. _No!_

He'd waited this too long, dammit! Patience was not an option!

Wally reached out, fisting his hands in the crisp fabric of Bruce's shirt, and surged upward, meeting his lips in a second, less-than-chaste kiss. He felt Bruce's surprise as if it where his own, felt him freeze up for a brief second before returning Wally's heated passion tenfold. Strong arms captured his smaller form, slipping around his back to bring him closer, cradling the back of his skull as fingers twined through silky red hair. Whatever chaste intentions Bruce might have had didn't last past Wally's response.

The redhead _crawled_ into his lap, fitting himself up against Bruce's greater bulk with a fluid grace, movements precise and controlled, leaking contained power with every motion. Had his attention not been fully occupied by the skilful mouth currently pressed against his own, Bruce would have been left in awe at the strength in the younger hero's lean body. How easy it was to forget his strength, seeing him as he had. Wally responded to every touch with fire he'd never known, giving as much as Bruce did, and demanding as much in return.

Kneeling in the middle of his bedroom, the red head's legs slug around his hips, they kissed, hands roaming, tracing, finding every nook and cranny of each other's bodies, investigating as much as clothing would allow. He shivered as Wally's fingers traced the curve of his spine, ghosting over old scars as he pressed the stiff fabric of Bruce's dress shirt to his back, boldly moving his hands over the Detective's body like he'd been born to do it; as if it were his own. There was no hesitation in his touch, no forced passion, faked curiosity. For the first time in a very long time, someone wanted the man behind the _mask_, not the billionaire playboy. The passionate, honest armful of redhead wanted Bruce Wayne, _and_ Batman, desired him for neither his fame, nor his fortune. Wallace West wanted his heart, and for once in his long, bitter life, Bruce was inclined towards giving it away.

He paused, lifting his mouth from the speedster's skin, and rested his forehead against the man's neck, breathing in his scent as he held him close. Wally's hands continued their slow exploration, content to leave Bruce to his thoughts as the passion simmered, the fierce intensity dimming into something much more valuable, far more tender; green eyes slid closed as warm, chapped lips pressed against the side of his throat, a firm, lingering kiss to his pulse point. Warm arms cradled him with all the consideration Bruce had shown him these past months, holding him firm like living steel. Wally smiled; this, _this_ was what had been missing. The warmth in his heart; the joy each touch brought him. If they never moved again, he would be _happy_, just to stay right there in Bruce's arms.

Those feelings, the strength of them, the sheer _power_, were what he'd been missing. The last little bit; the part that made life perfect. His arms tightened around him, holding the cause of the knew-found perfect world close as he rested his chin on Bruce's shoulder, pressing his face into the side of his jaw. He loved him so much; the world could quite literally end if he lost him. It should have frightened him; it really should have. But it didn't. He couldn't imagine actually surviving such a loss anyway.

The atmosphere in the dark room changed as he was lost in his thoughts: the loose, warm feeling of contentment sharpened; focusing more towards the intensity they'd started with. A quieter one, for sure, but most definitely there as calloused hands smoothed down his sides, slid down his sides, spanning his rib cage before Bruce slowly lumbered to his feet. Wally clamped his legs tight around the vigilantes' waist, arms wrapping around his neck as Bruce folded one arm around the speedster's back, the other holding him firm under one thigh, keeping the redhead steady as he moved towards the bed, Wally's clinging form swaying with every step.

They kept their silence, neither willing to break the peace, or soil the moment with needless words. Wally released his grip on Bruce as the older man leaned over the bed, setting the redhead down as gently as if he were made of spun sugar; he hovered for a moment, eyes flickering rapidly as he took Wally in. The younger hero lay in the blankets, watching him in turn, letting the long, meaning-filled moments pass in silence; with one finger Bruce brushed a lock from his face, before leaning down to brush a soft kiss to his willing lips. It was a pale cousin to the first they shared, but the emotions that bubbled up in the speedster's chest as a result made him smile, lips parting in silent, joyful laughter.

It should have been out of place, such innocence amidst the sensual atmosphere, but it brought an answering smile to his lover's stoic face, lighting his blue eyes from within. Wally liked that he could do that; that he could make Bruce smile. Laughter on his still-smiling lips, he leaned up, pulling his dark companion down into a lingering, heated kiss. As his lean form was straddled, he broke the kiss, to lap and suckle his way across the side of his throat, nibble fingers tugging buttons free of their holes as Bruce returned the favour, pushing buttons through button holes one-handed, as he braced himself above the redhead with the other. The air around them was charging again, heat gathering between them; Wally's breath quickened, matching the slightly ragged pace of the Batman's, as excitement sparked in his veins. Arousal quickly followed as Bruce smoothed a hand over his now-bare chest, smirking at the stuttering in the Flash's breath as one work-roughened finger brushed over his nipple.

Flash's eyes widened fractionally, a moan caught in his throat, curling back on its self as he sucked in a harsh breath, moving up against the man, _into_ the contact. Bruce evaded his attempts at continued contact, a thoughtful look of smug delight at Wally's soft whine of disappointment. Miffed at the denial, he retaliated by tugging Bruce's shirt down off his shoulders, pulling it along his arms until the man had no choice but to discard the garment. At the redhead's smug look of victory, a silent gloat of _you're more naked then me!_ Bruce arched one brow, then with one hand against the bare skin of his shoulder blades, levered the redhead up, stripping away the offending shirt, and set him down again, only to have his hands drop to the waist of Wally's pants.

The speedster mad a soft keening noise in the back of his throat, eyes bright in the darkness, focused on those hands, vividly pale against the dark denim of his jeans. Bruce didn't tease further; tugging the top two buttons free, leaning down to kiss one sharp hipbone as he pulled the tight fabric down until he slid it free, tossing the pants carelessly to the floor. Wally reached for him, Bruce meeting the younger man half way, their teeth clicking as their lips crushed together. Desperate fingers fought with his belt until he brushed them aside, unfastening both belt and pants in quick, familiar movements. He stood briefly, letting the clothing drop down his body to pool at his feet, then stepped free of it, ignoring Wally's lips in favour of mapping out the contours of the Flash's body with his tongue.

Wally gasped, writhing in the blankets as Bruce nibbled at the skin at the highest point of his ribcage, hot breath stirring goose bumps his even hotter tongue smoothed away. To keep from grabbing the man, he fisted the blankets, eyes shut as his face flushed, heat rising from his bones all at once.

"_A-Ahh!" _

A hot, wet tongue swirled around his nipple, before taking it into an equally hot, wet mouth. Wally arched against the sheets, eyes snapping open in surprise as pleasure shot straight to his groin, his already hard member nodding sadly to its self in neglect.

He was lost, drowning in sensation. Rough, calloused hands roamed his body, raising goose bumps and shivers from his damp skin as careful fingers traced ribs, abdomen, thighs, hips, wandering freely over him, returning frequently to the spots that he reacted to the most. He was aroused to nearly the point of pain, but nothing in the world would make him tell Bruce to stop. _Nothing_. The sensation of his hard body pressed against him, caging him so carefully, never putting more weight on him then was comfortable was nothing short of heaven. There was no pain, no force. Bruce took his time, exploring every inch of the redhead with hands, lips, and tongue, learning every curve in his body, every response; the way his abdomen clenched when he nuzzled his abs, or the way his breath would catch, when he kissed his throat. Small things that made his smaller lover loose his head. The things that caused the most pleasure; the motions that made him moan, thrusting helplessly against Bruce's thigh. Every detail, committed to memory, caught in that diamond-sharp mind. Held, forever.

Bruce pressed a lingering kiss to the side of Wally's throat, propping himself up on his elbows as he reached for the bedside table, pulling a small jar from the drawer. Wally shivered underneath him damp hair curling slightly, his face flushed a rather becoming shade of pink, as his green eyes tracked his every movement in a distracted, glazed manner. He scooped out a generous portion of ointment; old memories of those few occasions in private school all the boys pretended hadn't happened floating back up to the surface. Wally shifted to accommodate him, breath catching at the first touch of a cool, slick fingertip against his entrance. He closed his eyes, groaning softly, before turning to muffle the noise into Bruce's shoulder as one finger pressed slowly into him. He'd almost forgotten what preparation _was_, it had been so long.

Three fingers, and three long minutes, before the redhead snapped.

"Bruce," He hissed through clenched teeth. The one word was all that was needed to convey his frustration, and dawning exasperation. The man looked down at him for a moment, before leaning down, and kissing the tip of his nose,

"Fine, but you'll be sore," he warned, slowly withdrawing his fingers from inside the smaller man's body. Wally bit back a hiss, gritting his teeth against the sense of loss- _wait it out,_ _wait it out_- and glared up at him. Whatever snaky comment he'd been about to make was lost in the surprised hiss, as Bruce thrust up, feeding himself up into Wally's body in tight, controlled movements, brows drawn in concentration. He watched Wally, as the man moaned and keened, tossing his head and writhing against the pillows, green eyes closed against the waves of sensation.

"_F-faster!"_ Bruce complied, laying one hand along Wally's pale thigh as he spanned the side of his ribs with the other, thrusting into his hot, tight body. Green eyes watched him through red lashes, pale chest rising and falling as his breath sped up.

"_Ha-harder!"_ the sensation of Wally's sack, rubbing along his cock with every thrust in, and every pull out, his own heavy bullocks beating a steady rhythm against Wally's ass. Not deep enough. Not hard enough.

With a frustrated growl, Bruce pulled out, ignoring Wally's sharp cry of protest. A flash of understanding, as he turned him over, tugging his hips back as the younger hero rested his forehead against the sheets, braced on elbows and knees. A sharp cry as he thrust back in; two noises of satisfaction, mingled together. Wally moved back against him with every thrust, meeting him with an intensity that astounded him; the slap of flesh on flesh, each thrust more wild then the last, each breath more jagged. Every few thrusts, the body tucked against him tensed, that keening, bird-like sound he was quickly coming to love breaking free of Wally's creamy throat as he brushed up against that perfect spot. Bruce made an effort to hit it more often, with varying success.

Neither of them lasted long. When Wally came with a wordless cry, his inner walls locking down tight around Bruce, Bruce followed, smothering his noise into Wally's shoulder blade. The two collapsed, tucked up against each other in tangled, soiled sheets, and lay panting, trying to catch their breath.

When Bruce felt like his bones had returned, he rolled, slowly, stretching an arm out to grab the box of tissues sitting by the dead lamp, returning back to Wally's side before the redhead could protest. With the same careful attentiveness he had showed the entire evening, he carefully cleaned the speedster, wrapping the soiled tissues in several other ones, and chucked them blindly across the room, not caring where they'd landed.

Rolling slowly onto his side, he tugged Wally with them, giving the smaller man's hand a light squeeze as the speedster laced their fingers together, lying with his head resting against Bruce's chest. The Dark Knight dragged a hand through his damp hair, letting out a long, pent up sigh.

"I don't want to sleep in this room," he explained to the ceiling a moment later, looking mildly disgruntled at the prospect of moving when his body was insisting – very loudly, in fact- that now was the time for sleep. Wally craned his neck, looking up at him, and opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce cut him off.

"Messy bed. Never could sleep in them. Wait here."

Rather than protest, the redhead simply sighed, rolling onto his stomach to watch as the man the world called the Greatest Detective stalked barefoot and naked to his closet, rummaging around for god-only-knew-what.

A small noise of triumph drew Wally's wandering, lethargic thoughts back to the present, just in time to watch as the body he'd spent the last hour touching hid it's self inside a brushed velvet house coat. While he would admit the dark blue-and-black colouring suited him, he liked Bruce Wayne much better naked. Just his personal taste.

Bruce returned to the bed, and before Wally could wriggle away, scooped both the man, and the blankets, up. Wally squirmed in his hold, flushed a furious red- the indignity burning away any remaining lethargic urges. Bruce bounced him, once, in his arms, and the irritated hero quieted, settling down with a huff. If he hadn't been clutching the blankets around himself, he imagined Flash would have crossed his arms, mirroring a pose he'd seen Shayera take many times.

Bruce bullied his tired muscles into trekking the cold, silent stone hallways of the manner, walking him and his blushing Flash burden to the fore mentioned hero's rooms. Recognising the rooms, Wally shot a questioning look up at him, but Bruce chose to ignore it, focusing on getting the door open without dropping his human-shaped baggage.

Eventually Wally rolled his eyes, reaching out and opening the door for him.

"Thank you."

"Welcome."

The room beyond glowed, done up in pale greys, blues, and silvers, the huge picture windows letting the silvered moonlight stream in. Bruce glanced down, smiling at the stunned look on Wally's face, and moved silently to the bed. He let the flash clamour from the soiled blankets, dropping the house-robe onto the back of the only chair in the room as the redhead slipped between the sheets. Padding around to the other side, Bruce climbed in behind him, pulling the redhead back until they were snug against one another. As Wally let out a small noise of contentment, muscles going limp as sleep finally claimed him. Bruce buried his nose in his hair, breathing in the scents of sweat, sex, and Wally, and smiled. Curling himself protectively around the smaller man, he let himself slip after him into the dark realms of sleep.

*******

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Urk. It is now Oh-Gawd in the morning, but this chapter is DONE. There WILL be a chapter three. Just... not tonight.

Thank you to _Ms Pants_, _Kate the Night, Dork-Chan_, _YinYangWhiteTiger_, and _Kyer_ for their wonderful reviews.

Feed back is loved! Press the shameless button.

Tally's gunna go die now sleep until she feels human again.


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